In Her Nature
by Dndchk
Summary: Faolan is a young druid who was born and raised behind the wall of Gilneas. She has never known a life outside the walls... but when the worgen attack, her entire world is turned upside-down. A story adaptation of the worgen starting zone.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: _World of Warcraft_ belongs to Blizzard; I'm just playing in their delightful world. In an attempt to make this a faithful adaptation of the worgen starting zone, lines of dialogue have been lifted and/or modified slightly from the game. Hope you enjoy, and hopefully I've improved since I last wrote my embarrassing Mary Sue Marauders stories. ^^;**

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The sky overhead was that of a typical dreary Gilnean day: overcast and looking like the clouds were swollen with rain ready to fall. A remarkable feat, considering it had poured not half an hour earlier.

Then again, this was Gilneas. Overcast skies and near-constant rain were the norm for the kingdom.

In a glen on the outskirts of Gilneas City, two women, one looking to be nearing old age and another barely into adulthood, could be found in the middle of a lesson. The older woman, clad in a simple brown robe with a hood, was standing behind the younger, lecturing her while she practiced her spellwork.

"For nearly twenty years, the Greymane Wall has kept us safe from the outside. After the Second War, when we withdrew into our nation and built the wall around us, we encountered problems we hadn't considered. We were driven to the edge of extinction once before, Faolan. But we druids, keepers of the old ways, saved our people from famine." The druidess Celestine watched as her pupil struggled with the growth spell; as she watched, the gold light around Faolan's hands sizzled and went out. Celestine sighed. "When we cut ourselves off from the outside world and our crops failed, it was our order who called upon the earth's blessings and restored the harvest—"

"I know," Faolan snapped, bending over and pressing her hands against her knees, breathing heavily. She seemed to realize her tone was not entirely appropriate, as she bowed her head. "Apologies, mistress."

"It's alright, dear. I had trouble with that spell when I was your age, too." Celestine touched her fingertips lightly to Faolan's forehead and the younger druidess felt energy flow into her tired body. "You have a long ways to go. You are still young; you were one of the first children born inside the wall, after all." She smiled.

Faolan didn't seem particularly inclined to smile back. "I just want to master this spell!" she growled, wiping away the strands of orange hair that had plastered themselves to her forehead with sweat. "If Gilneas is to experience another famine, we'll need all the druids we can muster! Our numbers are dwindling; I can't afford to—"

"Faolan." Celestine's gentle voice stopped Faolan's beginning rant. "Have you never considered you might not be suited for this particular branch of druidism? Taking into account how much of an affinity you have for the combat-oriented spells, perhaps becoming a harvest witch is not for you."

"But…" Faolan's face fell. "But I want to help, I want to be useful! I promised Mother that I'd make Gilneas better when she agreed to let me train under you!"

"And you have been." Celestine put her hand under Faolan's chin, tilting her head up so she'd look at her. "You've been doing a wonderful job with the border patrol. I've heard nothing but good things about your performance."

"Only because nobody wants to make you angry," Faolan muttered, sitting down heavily in the grass. She ignored the rainwater that was seeping into the leather stitched to her trousers.

Celestine shrugged and sat beside her, arranging her skirts as she did so. "Perhaps, but I find it doubtful." She glanced up at the sun, which was about to touch the horizon, and tilted her head thoughtfully. "It's getting late. You should head home; I wouldn't want you to miss dinner and then have to go on patrol on an empty stomach."

Faolan sighed and tugged her ponytail tighter before standing back up and taking several steps away to retrieve her spear, which was sitting propped against a nearby tree. "Yes, mistress. Thank you."

"And be safe, do you hear me?" Celestine's lined face grew serious. "I've been hearing rumors not just from the townsfolk, but on the wind as well. Something's out there—" She waved an arm at the wild forest in the distance. "—something that has the king worried. Take care of yourself tonight."

Faolan nodded and slung her spear over her back, waving to Celestine as she began the long walk home.

One of the guards by the gate waved to her as she approached. "How goes, Faolan?"

"Going well, I suppose. Thank you for asking, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant Walden nodded at her, then looked up at the sky. "Looks like it's going to rain tonight."

"There's a surprise," Faolan said dryly, and Walden and the other sentry chuckled. "Gentlemen, I'll see you later tonight; I'm on border patrol."

"Until then." Walden saluted and returned to a more formal stance, gazing out into the forest.

Faolan gave a tiny nod to the other sentry as she passed. Once inside the gate, she started up an easy jog that would take her through the merchant's district to her home in the Merchant's Square.

The leatherworking shop where she lived smelled, unsurprisingly, of leather and dyes. The bottom floor where the store was located was dark when Faolan entered; she went behind the counter and climbed the stairs to the small two-room apartment above, from which the smells of beef stew were wafting.

The ground rumbled and Faolan stumbled slightly on her way up the steps, catching herself on the railing. She frowned. That must have been the third earthquake this week. All of them had been minor so far, but they had the citizens of Gilneas worried.

She shook it off and pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. "Da! I'm home!"

"Fwai!" Lyall Leonard came over from the fireplace and caught his daughter up in a massive bear hug. Years of carrying around large stacks of hides had toughened him up so there was a lean muscle to his body. "How did your training go today?" he asked, stepping back and gripping her by the shoulders. "And how is Celestine? Doing well, I hope?"

"Training's… great, Da," Faolan said, deciding to not mention her conversation with her teacher. She pulled her spear off her back and propped it in the corner. "And Celestine is as well as ever. Did you feel that earthquake just now?"

"Did I?" Lyall pointed over at the fireplace, over which a stewpot was hung. Stew was bubbling inside, but it looked like some of it had slopped out of the pot when the ground started shaking. "At least most of our dinner survived."

"Thank goodness for that." Faolan moved a stack of hides that her father must have been embossing earlier that day from the table to the floor before going to a cabinet and retrieving bowls and spoons. "I'll have to eat and run, I'm on patrol again tonight." She set the dishes on the table and sat while her father removed the pot from over the fire, bringing it over and setting it in the center of the table.

"Again?" Lyall asked in surprise. "That's the fourth time this week now, isn't it?"

"Yes," Faolan said, waiting while he dished out his stew. "King's orders. I don't know what's going on, but… well, you've heard the rumors."

"Heard the howling, is more like it," Lyall said, handing the ladle over to her. "The wolves out there are just getting more aggressive every night, aren't they?"

"That's assuming they're even wolves," Faolan said darkly.

"Aye that." Lyall began eating, a pensive expression on his face.

Faolan followed suit, snarfing down food. She froze when she heard hoofsteps outside in the square below, followed by shouts of "Make way for the prince!"

"The prince…?" Lyall got up and went to the window, peering outside. Faolan joined him, ducking under his arm to see for herself.

Sure enough, Prince Liam Greymane was in the square, sitting on a white stallion and surrounded by several guards.

"Wonder what he's here for," Faolan murmured, leaning out the window slightly. She sort of knew the prince, in a sense. Celestine and the other druids would biannually go to Greymane Manner to give the king a report on how the crops were doing, and Faolan had come along the last several years.

Lyall and Faolan exchanged looks when the prince began directing his men to spread out. "I want the perimeter secured and the gates manned by two guards at all times. No one gets in, no one gets out," he shouted, his voice carrying out over the square.

"I should get down there," Faolan said, stepping away from the window.

Lyall turned and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I don't know what's going on out there. Be careful."

"When am I not?" Faolan asked, grabbing her spear and heading down to the Merchant's Square. "Don't worry, I'll be back in a few hours."


	2. Chapter 2

Faolan approached Captain Broderick, who was standing beside the prince's horse. One of her eyebrows went up when she saw that Gwen Armstead, the mayor of the nearby town of Duskhaven, was there as well.

"Reporting for duty, sir," she began, but Captain Broderick shook his head and pointed at the prince.

Liam barely glanced down at Faolan. "What are you doing here, citizen? Haven't you heard? The city's under complete lockdown."

"Your highness…?" Faolan began.

Liam sent another pair of soldiers away, off to the military district, before finally sparing her a glance. He blinked, frowned, then recognition dawned on his face. "You're Celestine's pupil, aren't you? Fwai-something?"

"Faolan," she supplied, a little surprised he remembered.

"Yes, that's it." Liam tilted his head. "The nose ring's new."

"I suppose so, your highness." Faolan looked around. "Prince Liam, I was supposed to be on patrol tonight, where—?"

"Plans for that have been scrapped," Captain Broderick said. "Right now we're working on evacuating citizens—"

"Wait, what?" Faolan asked, her eyes going huge.

"A couple of the sentries on the northern side were overpowered and killed," Broderick said grimly.

Faolan swallowed. "By what?"

"Worgen."

"Go see Lieutenants Walden and Brightly," Prince Liam said, clicking his fingers at Faolan to get her attention. "Let him know what's going on and come back here; I want you to help evacuate the citizens."

Faolan was still trying to process what Broderick had said. "Worg—?"

"Go," Liam snapped, and Faolan nodded and sprinted off.

Worgen. So that was what everyone had been hearing outside the city walls for what felt like ages. She could have laughed at the irony. Build a wall around the kingdom to keep it safe, only for this new plague to rise up within the borders!

As Faolan rounded the corner and started up the street that led to the sentry post, she slowed to a hesitant walk. Lieutenant Walden's body was lying in the street in a pool of blood. There was no sign of the other sentry.

Faolan drew her spear and looked around. A clatter on the rooftops startled her and her head jerked up, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. When no attack came, though, she dismissed it as a rat and hurried to Walden's side, turning him faceup.

There was no question now if he was dead or not. Deep parallel claw marks cut through his chest; the body was still warm though, blood still seeping. This was a recent kill. Very recent.

Faolan closed the man's eyes and stood; her knuckles went white on her spear when a bloodchilling howl ripped through the night. She sprinted back the way she came, hearing the clang of swords and the bangs of blunderbusses, the shouts of Gilneans, the howls of worgen.

As she came running into the square, something fell on top of her, long claws trying to rip through the leather of her jerkin. Faolan rolled out from underneath her assailant and stabbed, the head of her spear embedding itself in the worgen's chest.

"Fall back!" she heard Prince Liam yelling over the noise of battle. "Fall back, everyone! We'll meet up with reinforcements in the prison district!"

Faolan ripped her spear out and whirled, stabbing another one of the rabid beasts.

She heard screaming from behind her and her head whipped around to see one of the homes surrounding the square had had its door broken down. The screams were coming from inside. Faolan raced inside, leaping at the worgen who had cornered the poor family and sinking her spear into its chest. She felt its sternum crunch as the spear broke through to its heart and the worgen crumpled. Faolan disengaged and tugged her spear free. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she said, holding out her hand and trying to smile reassuringly. "Get outside, get to the prison district," she said, pointing. "Prince Liam said there are reinforcements there, you'll be safer with them!"

The father nodded and picked up his six year old son, grabbed his wife's hand, and together they ran outside. Faolan ran after them, leaping at a worgen who lunged at the wife. She collided with the worgen and the two of them went rolling across the cobblestones.

With the worgen dead, Faolan stood up, looking around. She spotted Prince Liam and his men retreating to the Military District and decided she should probably follow her own advice and head to the prison when she heard the snarling of more worgen behind her. Taking a moment to shake the blood from her spear, she sprinted after the guards, praying that her father had made it out safely.

She was glad now for all the times she had spent on patrol; it had taught her a few tricks, especially how to blend into the shadows with a bit of druidic magic so as not to be seen. Faolan slipped past several more worgen and made her way through the streets to the Military District, breathing a sigh of relief when she noticed Gwen Armstead trying to calm down several distraught civilians.

"Mayor Armstead," Faolan called, jogging forward. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Gwen pointed down the street. "Celestine is down that way, tending to the wounded," she said. "You might want to see if she needs your help."

Faolan nodded and ran off. Despite her trouble with most rejuvenating and growth spells, she had at least mastered a handful of small-scale healing spells that she mostly used on people who came to her door, seeking relief for scalded or cut fingers. Though she could handle larger wounds as well, it was a much longer, more difficult process for her than it was for her mentor.

Faolan found Celestine in the street, her arms raised as she called upon the renewing abilities of the wild to heal the wounded soldiers that were still fighting. "Faolan!" Celestine called. "Thank goodness you're here. We could use another healer!"

"But I'm not—"

"You're the best we've got!" Celestine said, turning and sending a bolt of golden energy at a charging worgen. The light struck it in the chest and it collapsed. "Go see to the soldiers down that way." She pointed. "Do what you can. The earth speaks to us, Faolan. It will not abandon us in these perilous times. Do not forget to draw your strength from it."

"I won't, Mistress," Faolan said, and ran off.

Mercifully, the soldiers were not so terribly wounded she was confronted with something she could not handle. Faolan worked quickly, mending cuts and scrapes, though she noticed one man had a bite on his shoulder that refused to close no matter how much energy she poured into her spells. She frowned, but decided she must just be getting tired. Even as she had the thought, she noticed fatigue beginning to settle, and she took several deep breaths before casting a spell of rejuvenation on herself. She was not used to such intense fighting and it was already beginning to wear on her.

"It is time we joined with the other survivors," Celestine said from behind her, making her jump. The harvest witch knelt and touched the shoulder injury that refused to heal; it closed up, though it still looked red and angry. "I heard one of the soldiers say King Genn Greymane and his guards are just south of here. You go ahead and clear a path, if you can. I will finish tending to these soldiers. Tell him fresh—well, somewhat fresh reinforcements will be arriving shortly. "

Faolan nodded tiredly and gripped her spear, seeking comfort from its smooth oak shaft. She ran through the streets, helping soldiers kill worgen as she came across them, until her jerkin was stained with blood. She would need a bath after this. And a warm, filling meal. And maybe a nap. A nap sounded very good right about now.

She would just have to nap later. Up ahead, she spotted the unmistakable figure of King Genn Greymane, sitting atop a magnificent grey stallion and directing troops. Behind the king huddled a small group of civilians; Faolan scanned their faces, looking for her father, but she didn't spot him among the crowd. Her heart sank, but she clenched her jaw. She would have to find him later. The entire city could be at stake.

She approached the king and bowed. "Your highness," she said, "I come with a message from Celestine."

The king paused in his conversation with Lord Godfrey and turned to look at her. "Yes?"

"She is currently tending to wounded soldiers further north," Faolan said, "but they will be back on their feet and arriving here shortly."

The king nodded and glanced at the prison before them, then back down at her. "You're her pupil, correct? Fwai… Faolan, wasn't it?"

Faolan blinked, startled by the fact that not just the prince but his father as well remembered her. Maybe they made it a point to know the names of their druids? "Er, yes, your highness," she said.

"Good. Faolan, I need you to do something for me. Enter the Stoneward Prison and ask Captain Broderick about Lord Darius Crowley's whereabouts. I'd send my own men, but there's still bad blood."

Faolan blinked again. "Darius… Crowley, your highness?" she asked hesitantly. "The leader of—?"

"Crowley has been called many things. Rebel. Traitor. Terrorist. But before the civil war, I called him friend," the king said, his eyes fixed on the prison. "I never blamed him for his actions. His land and people were separated from Gilneas by our wall, but we had no choice. None of that matters now, though. In times like these, Crowley is exactly the type of person we need."

Faolan bowed once more, carefully keeping her features neutral. It would not do to let the king see disapproval. "I will see to it at once."

"While you're in there, don't hesitate to kill any worgen you come across," Lord Godfrey added.

Faolan nodded and ran toward the prison. Despite Godfrey's request, she did her best to stay unseen. Much as she loathed to let the savage monsters live, she would be of no use to anyone if she got herself killed, and the damn things were everywhere. The door to the prison was open and she slipped inside, only to have to immediately jump out of the way when a gunshot rang out. The bullet clipped her forearm and Faolan yelped at the sudden pain.

"I'm a friend!" she yelled, holding up her arms and wincing at the motion.

Captain Broderick lowered his gun. "You might want to consider not sneaking up on people, girl," he said. "You're lucky I realized you weren't a threat right when I pulled the trigger."

Faolan bit back a snort and touched her arm, letting her magic knit the wound back together. "The king needs to know where Darius Crowley is," she said. "He thinks he may be of help in this fight."

Captain Broderick's face hardened. "Crowley? I don't understand why the king wants to waste time saving his hide, but if you want to risk your life, be my guest." He jerked his head at the staircase behind him. "Crowley and his men are holed up upstairs, probably plotting against the king as we speak."

"I wouldn't doubt it, sir," Faolan said, and jogged up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I went back and edited the first two chapters since it had been so long.**

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As Faolan reached the roof of the prison, the sharp iron smell of blood hit her nose and she swallowed when she found slain guards and inmates alike, along with several alive but wounded prisoners.

"Darius Crowley?" Faolan asked hesitantly as she approached.

"What's it to you, girl?" one of the men asked sharply.

Faolan took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "King Greymane requests your assistance," she said. "He says in times like these, we need all the men we can get."

"Did he, now?" Crowley snorted. "Greymane's right, though. These beasts don't give a damn about our politics. Gilneas needs to stand together. But first—" He nodded at one of the wounded men, who was lying on the ground with another man crouched over him, using his hands to stop the flow of blood. "One of those mangy fleabags got Dempsey real good. We cannot move him until we stabilize his bleeding. Give us a hand holding back these mongrels. A couple of minutes is all we need, sister!"

Faolan nodded and readied her spear once more as a howl rang out over the rooftops.

The next several minutes were a whirlwind of fur, teeth, and blade as she and the prisoners fended off the attacking worgen.

"We're getting there! Careful, or we'll lose him!" Crowley yelled as he struck a worgen across the snout.

"I think he's stable, Crowley!" the man tending to Dempsey said, helping him to his feet.

Faolan's spear drove into a worgen's back as it lunged at Crowley; it twitched and went still, and she pulled her spear free, looking around. Corpses littered the roof and blood soaked into their shoes, but they were alive.

"We did it, girl," Crowley said, smiling tiredly. "What's your name?"

"Faolan Tanner."

"Well then, Faolan, thank you," Crowley said. He got under Dempsey's other arm, helping to support the man. "Thanks to you, a good man has survived."

Faolan bit her lip, deciding it would be unwise to tell Crowley that good men don't typically get thrown in prison.

Crowley sighed and looked out over the city. "Listen, Faolan, for the first time since the civil war I agree with Greymane. Now is the time to put aside our quarrel. These beasts don't care if you're a rebel or a royal. Send word back to Greymane. My men will join his."

"I will." Faolan turned to leave when Crowley cleared his throat.

"There's a safehouse to the west, not far from here, in Josiah's cellar. My lads stashed some heavy artillery in there. Tell the king my arsenals are at his disposal, too."

Faolan nodded. For the first time since the worgen attacked, she felt a flicker of hope. "Stay safe," she said, saluting.

It would take too long to go down the stairs. Faolan leapt over the railing onto the roof below the prison, and from there slid down a pipe to the ground. She cloaked herself in shadow once again before slipping away to find the king.

Carnage. That was the only way to describe what the streets had become. Gilneans and worgen alike lay dead on the bloody cobblestones, bodies going cold. Faolan stepped over a woman whose chest had been ripped open, swallowing down bile.

She couldn't get distracted now. Too many people were counting on her tonight.

She found Greymane and Godfrey where she'd left them, directing soldiers and civilians. There were more wounded in the square now, and she paused to attempt to heal the worst off.

"Don't worry about me," a woman with a bloodstained blouse said when she approached. "My husband, though—" She broke off, coughing. Blood dribbled from her mouth.

Faolan knelt beside her, hands already beginning to glow with green energy. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she reached out with her magic. Punctured lungs, torn abdominal muscles. Not good. She sent healing magic into the woman's body, repairing flesh and replenishing blood.

She was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath by the time she deemed the woman to be in stable enough condition. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see Celestine holding out a waterskin. Faolan took it and drank greedily.

"I'll see to the rest of the civilians," Celestine said, going to the woman's husband. "The king needs you."

Faolan nodded and let out a long breath before getting up and going to Greymane. She bowed, struggling to keep the motion proper. "Your majesty," she said, "I bear... good news from Crowley. He says there is a stockpile of heavy artillery in… Josiah's cellar."

"Josiah Avery?" Greymane asked, and Faolan hesitated.

"I'm not sure, your majesty," she said. "He just said it was to the west."

"That would be Josiah Avery, then," Greymane said, pointing. "Just down that street; you won't be able to miss it." He sighed and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "It is unnerving that artillery was smuggled inside the city by my enemies, yet it might end up saving Gilnean lives today. Find Josiah and get the artillery. We will put the weapons to good use."

"I'll be right back, your majesty," Faolan said, bowing again.

"Be safe," the king replied, turning his horse around.

Faolan took another sip of water and swung the skin over her shoulder before setting off.

She crept down the street, no longer as shocked by the bloodshed. She was becoming numb to it, like everything she was watching was part of a nightmare from which she would soon wake up. The dead she left where they lay; the dying, she paused to heal long enough that they could get up and drag themselves back to the square where Celestine was.

The farther she went, the quieter the street became. The bodies were less now, though there were several overturned carts and sheets of parchment lying in gutter.

There, just ahead, a large cellar door. When she went over to it and tugged on the handles, she found it was barred from the inside.

"Josiah?" she called, glancing behind her to look for any worgen. Seeing none, she turned back, though she kept her ears pricked. "Josiah!"

From inside, she heard a muffled moan.

Faolan looked around again before stepping back. Her hands glowed with light and she channeled the sun's energy. Now this—this was magic she was good at.

Fire formed in her palms and she lifted her hands, blasting the doors open. "Josiah!" She ran down the stairs to find a man huddled in the back corner of the cellar, head in his hands. "...Josiah?"

"Don't look at me! Leave me alone!"

Faolan approached warily, spear in hand. "Jos—"

With a howl, Josiah's body nearly doubled in size and his clothes tore, fur erupting from every inch of his skin. The worgen whirled and lunged at Faolan, knocking her spear away when its jaws sank into her arm. Faolan screamed; her arm was on fire and she couldn't pull it free. Her free hand glowed and she struck the worgen across the face with a blast of solar fire. It yelped and let go, and she scrambled backwards, reaching for her spear.

A deafening gunshot echoed in the cellar and a bullet whizzed past her head, finding its mark in the worgen's chest. Faolan turned to see a young woman with long black hair and a simple grey and bronze dress lowering a musket.

"You alright there, Faolan?" the woman asked, looking at the wound on Faolan's arm.

Faolan touched it, wincing when she felt it resist her attempt to heal it. Slowly her flesh knitted together and she nodded. "I am. Thank you for saving me—who are you?"

"Lorna Crowley. My father sent me to help you," she said, going over to the worgen lying on the floor. "He turned into one of them, didn't he?" When Faolan nodded, Lorna shook her head. "How can we even fight an enemy that can do this to us?"

Faolan looked around at the cannons in the cellar. "Well…"

Despite herself, a smile tugged at Lorna's lips. "I suppose my father's arsenal would be a good place to start."

A loud howl rang outside and Faolan flinched, reaching for her spear, but Lorna shook her head. "That's one of my mastiffs," she said, turning to go back up the stairs. Faolan followed her, sighing with relief when she saw the men and dogs waiting outside for them. "There are worgen out there," Lorna said, nodding at the street ahead. "Take one of my mastiffs to find them more easily. We're going to need to clear the way ahead if we're going to move these cannons aboveground."

"I'm on it," Faolan said, crouching beside one of the mastiffs and holding out her hand. The dog sniffed her hand, jowls quivering, before letting out a bark and running off. Faolan stood and jogged after the dog, spear out and ears pricked. Citizens and soldiers, armed with pitchforks and muskets, fanned out on either side of her.

The worgen lurking in the alley were dispatched quickly. Several Gilneans were injured in the process, but Faolan tended to their injuries. She'd never been forced to use her healing spells so frequently before and she could tell she was improving rapidly.

She wished she hadn't needed to get better under such circumstances, though.

The streets cleared, the battered and bruised fighters made their way back to the cellar to begin moving the cannons. Faolan went to help, but Lorna stopped her, shaking her head.

"We'll take it from here, Faolan. Tell King Greymane my father's arsenal will be at his disposal. There's more than enough firepower to blow the worgen from here to the north sea."

"Be safe," Faolan said.

Lorna held out a hand and Faolan clasped it.

"I could tell you to do the same," Lorna said, stepping back. "Go!"


	4. Chapter 4

Faolan hurried back to Greymane, reflecting that she was doing more running today than she normally did in a week. At least these streets were safer, having already been cleared of enemies. She found the king sooner than she'd thought, though; everyone had been forced to fall back as more worgen came pouring in.

"Your majesty!" Faolan said, stopping beside Greymane. "The artillery is secured and Lorna Crowley is moving the cannons into position. Six of them, all told."

"I knew Crowley would come through. His weapons will be more than useful to us," Greymane said, smiling down at her, though the smile slipped when he saw the blood on her arm. "How are you doing, Faolan? Do you need Celestine to look at you?"

"I took care of it already, your majesty," Faolan said. "Just tell me how I can be of greatest use to you."

"Right then," Greymane said, looking out over the chaos. "How many cannons did you say we had?"

"Six, your majesty."

"All these years after the war and Crowley was still hiding enough firepower in that cellar to level half the district." Greymane shook his head. "It might have to come to that, unfortunately. We can't open fire just yet, though—there is a civilian trapped on the other side of the prison. Not just any civilian, either. Krennan Aranas is one of the most brilliant alchemists this world has known. One of his potions saved my daughter, Tess, from dying soon after being born. Take my horse and rescue him."

"Your horse?" Faolan said in alarm as Greymane dismounted. "Your majesty, I couldn't—"

"Do you see any others around?" Greymane said shortly. "Krennan must live. That's an order."

Faolan began a bow, but Greymane stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "No time for formalities now, Faolan," he said, cupping his hands for her to step on.

Today was just one insanity after another, Faolan thought, allowing the king to boost her into the saddle. First the earthquakes, then the worgen, then Crowley being freed, and now the king was giving her his horse.

She spurred it with a "HIYAH!" and the horse took off, hooves clattering on the cobbles. Faolan tightened her knees, praying the horse wouldn't slip as they raced along at breakneck speed.

The horse plowed forward, leaping over an overturned cart and skidding as it landed. It let out a terrible scream as it broke through a line of worgen that turned to snap at its flanks. Faolan felt one rake its claws across her leg, barely stopped by her leather armor. She bent low over the horse's neck, kicking it frantically. Not that it needed any encouragement.

"Help! Up here!" a man yelled. He was hanging from a tree branch, barely out of the reach of the worgen's snapping jaws.

"Get ready to jump!" Faolan yelled, dropping the reins and pulling her spear off her back. Gripping only with her knees, she stabbed at the nearest worgen while the king's horse began biting and kicking with steel-shod front hooves. With the worgen dispatched, Faolan replaced her spear and held out her hands. "Jump, now!"

With a cry of fear, the man let go, falling into the saddle and wildly grabbing around Faolan's waist.

"Krennan Aranas?" Faolan yelled, wheeling the horse around and urging it back the way they'd come.

"Yes!" Krennan said, arms tightening around her. "Thank you for saving WHOA!" His chin thudded against Faolan's shoulder as she leaned forward, anticipating the horse to jump the broken wagon again. They sailed over the barricade and landed with a clatter, and Faolan prised Krennan's arms off of her before she dismounted and led the horse over to Godfrey, who was waiting in front of the empty cellar.

He nodded at her. "Well done, Faolan."

"Where is everyone?" she asked anxiously.

"King Greymane took the civilians to the bridge," Godfrey said. He turned to the men waiting by the cannons and yelled, "We've got Aranas! Fire at will!"

The cannons began to thunder and Faolan's heart sank as Godfrey turned back to her. "We've done all we can here. Let King Greymane know we've bought some time. I've a feeling it won't be long til the worgen are back in force. We'll need to fall back to Greymane Court to the west, if that's the case. It's the last place we can hold out without being trapped like fish in a barrel."

"It's really that bad, sir?" Faolan said, realizing even as she said it how stupid it sounded. Gilneas was overrun by the savage beasts. Countless people lay dead in the streets, and the damage to the buildings would take ages to repair.

Godfrey looked back at the cannons firing and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid so."

Faolan turned to go, but Godfrey held up a hand. "Make sure Krennan makes it out of the city alive."

"Yessir," Faolan said, going back to the horse. Krennan pulled her into the saddle and they set off at a quick, but considerably more measured, pace.

The horse's hoofbeats echoed off the high walls of the city, eerily loud in the silence as they got away from the cannons. Worgen lay dead in the streets; it seemed the survivors had come this way.

"I can't believe this is happening," Krennan murmured, and Faolan felt him twist in the saddle to look around. "Gilneas…"

Faolan swallowed back the lump in her throat, transferring the reins to one hand to wipe away her tears with the other. Now wasn't the time to cry. She could mourn later.

They found King Greymane, Prince Liam, Celestine, and a number of other survivors just before the bridge. Greymane's face broke out in a smile when he saw Faolan and Krennan approaching.

"You made it!" he said, hurrying over as Faolan dismounted. He helped Krennan down from the saddle and squeezed the alchemist's shoulder. "Thank you, Faolan. You even brought me back my horse."

"Of course, your majesty."

"Fwai!" Celestine caught her up in a hug. "Thank goodness you're okay—is that blood?"

"I took care of it, Mistress, no worries," Faolan said, hugging her back. She'd been so distracted by everything that was happening she hadn't noticed the spot was beginning to burn. "Have you seen my father?"

Celestine shook her head, face lined with worry. "I'm sorry, I have not."

Greymane cleared his throat. "We're left with very few choices, Faolan. What we do next will be a critical decision."

"Your… majesty?" Faolan asked warily.

"Come with me," the king said, motioning for her and Celestine to follow him. They went back to the small circle standing before the bridge.

"—need to retreat," Prince Liam was saying as they rejoined the group, and Greymane nodded.

"If we can make it past the gates into Duskhaven we'll be safe. The eastern mountains are virtually impassable," he said.

Crowley rubbed his chin. "We need to keep the worgen's attention in the city, Genn. It's the only shot we have for the survivors to make it to Duskhaven."

Lorna came over to stand beside her father, giving Faolan a curt nod.

"I'll stay behind with the Royal Guard, father. It is my duty to Gilneas," the prince said, but Crowley shook his head.

"Not a chance, boy. Gilneas is going to need its king's undivided attention. Can't have your father wondering whether his child is alive or not." He gave Lorna's hand a squeeze. "My men and I will hole up inside the Light's Dawn Cathedral. I've already given the order and the cannons are on their way. Lead our people well, Genn."

Greymane nodded solemnly. "We were fools to take up arms against each other, Darius. The worgen would've never stood a chance." He turned to Celestine. "You'll have to go with the survivors. Tend to the wounded, do whatever you must to keep them alive."

"I'll stay with Crowley's men," Faolan said, surprised at her own boldness.

Crowley turned to look at her. "You don't have to do this, Faolan. You've done more than enough already."

She lifted her chin and set her jaw stubbornly. "I want to help, Crowley, and I'm a better fighter than I am healer."

"Then I'd be a fool to turn you away," Crowley said. "Lorna—"

"Father, no!"

"The survivors will need people who can defend them," Crowley said. "I wouldn't trust anyone else to keep them safe."

"Keep them safe, or keep me safe?" Lorna said.

"What I said to Genn applies to me as well," Crowley said, his eyebrows drawing together. "I can't do my job if I don't know you'll be okay."

Lorna bit her lip, eyes watering. "Father…"

Crowley embraced her and Faolan looked away, a pang in her chest as she wondered what had become of her own father.

"Lorna, promise me."

"I… I promise, Father." Lorna turned to Faolan and jabbed a finger at her chest. "You bring him back safe, you hear me?"

"I will," Faolan said, putting a hand over her heart. "By the Light, I'll bring him back alive."

Lorna nodded, and Celestine put a hand on her shoulder. "Be safe, Faolan," Celestine said, and led Lorna to the civilians.

Crowley went to his horse and mounted up, holding out a hand to Faolan. "My men have fortified their position inside the cathedral and are ready for whatever comes next. I'm about to head there and take as many of these flea-ridden devils with me as I can. You're welcome to come along for the ride."

Faolan took his hand and pulled herself into the saddle behind him. "I think I can help with that," she said as flames danced from her fingertips.

"Perfect," Crowley said, and kicked his horse. "Every worgen we keep inside the city is one less worgen chasing the survivors."

They rode across the bridge towards the cathedral, Faolan firing off bursts of solar light at the worgen milling around. They snarled and turned to chase the horse. This one wasn't trained for war like Greymane's mount was and it screamed in terror, galloping away at top speed. Even with her years of practice, Faolan still had to hold on to Crowley with one hand to keep from falling off.

"OVER HERE, YOU FLEABAGS!" Crowley bellowed. "COME AND GET US, YOU MOTHERLESS BEASTS! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH US, YOU BLASTED MONGRELS!"

Faolan continued searing the worgen with bouts of fire, taunting more and more of the creatures into chasing after them. The sound of cannons became louder the closer they got to the cathedral and as they approached the steps, Crowley directed the horse up them without any hesitation. The worgen that had been chasing them were mowed down by cannons and muskets, and the occasional bolt of arcane energy. Faolan dismounted and joined the fight, running ammunition to the cannoneers as they began running out.

"WE HAVE THE POSITION!" Crowley roared over the din of battle. "WE HAVE THE FIREPOWER! ALL THAT REMAINS TO BE SEEN IS WHETHER WE HAVE THE COURAGE!"

The defenders roared back as worgen poured into the cathedral square. Cannons boomed, muskets fired, and blades flashed as the defenders slowly caused the attacking worgen's numbers to dwindle. Faolan soon abandoned her post running ammunition to begin tending to the wounded as the worgen fell back.

Crowley, who was bleeding heavily from a bite on his shoulder, smiled at her as she approached. "You've done well, Faolan," he said, wincing when she set to work repairing the wound. "We're running low on ammunition. It's time to regroup inside now."

"We had enough ammunition to carry on the civil war for another month if we had to!" Tobias Mistmantle said as he began carrying one of the wounded defenders to the cathedral. "And yet the worgen's numbers are so great we're nearly spent."

Faolan picked up one of the survivors under the arms and began dragging him inside. Once she was through, several men began lugging broken cannons and crates into place to form a makeshift barricade. The defenders were regrouping, checking their weapons and tying rags around their injuries. Faolan couldn't heal them all, she knew. She'd been on her feet for hours now, and she was exhausted. The burning in her arm was getting stronger, and she unstrapped her bracer before pulling back the sleeve of her shirt, eyes widening when she realized hair was growing from the place where she'd been bitten. That couldn't be good.

Faolan pulled the waterskin's strap over her shoulder and dribbled its contents on the wound, but that somehow only made her arm burn more. She hissed and pressed it to her stomach, trying to ignore the burning.

"I'm sure old Crowley will know what to do next," Tobias said, setting the wounded man down beside the one Faolan had dragged inside. "Don't worry, girl, we'll slay many more before the day is over."

"Everyone, listen up!" Crowley yelled, his voice echoing off the cathedral ceiling. "We've got a good chokepoint in here. We'll hold the beasts off for a good long while. Feel free to say a prayer if that's your sort of thing. Take courage, and let's kill these mutts!"

There was a roar of approval from the defenders, and Faolan joined in despite her sore throat. She'd been doing a lot of yelling today, too, it seemed.

Everyone whirled at the sound of splintering wood and worgen leapt through the door, ripping through the barricade like it was made of parchment. Summoning her last reserves of strength, Faolan found a strange burst of energy, a burning that coursed through her entire body. Her blood sang in the heat of battle as she leapt forward, thrusting her spear at the nearest worgen. It collapsed and she withdrew, spun, and sank the spear into another's chest.

"We can do this, Faolan!" Crowley yelled. He was back to back with her and they fought back the beasts, a savage cry on Faolan's lips as she ripped apart worgen after worgen.

When the last body fell to the ground, Faolan found herself standing beside the great stained glass windows. Blood covered the rich wood and soaked the red carpet, staining it a darker shade.

"They… they stopped coming," Crowley said into the sudden silence.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Faolan said, putting her spear over her shoulder to grasp at her arm. The burning was intense now, so strong she almost missed Crowley's response.

"No. It's not."

With a great crash! the stained glass windows shattered and more worgen burst through. Faolan's mind was consumed with fire and she screamed, her back arching, fur erupting all over her body, fingers elongating into claws and her face into a muzzle. Rows of sharp teeth grew from her mouth and her body grew, and grew, and grew, clothes shredding as she transformed.

The worgen howled and lunged forward.


End file.
